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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26537605">on my touch-tone, touch-tone telephone</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/honey_butter/pseuds/honey_butter'>honey_butter</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>I Was Born for This - Alice Oseman</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Background Relationships, Friendship, Gen, angel is aroace, angel is autistic, bicci is important tho, hmm i'm not entirely sure what to tag this as, i love them so much but my mind is blanking on tags so just trust me okay, jimmy is getting better, main focus is the angel and jimmy friendship</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 06:33:49</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,019</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26537605</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/honey_butter/pseuds/honey_butter</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em><b>I hope this isn’t weird.</b> The text shows up on my phone about two weeks after I got home from the whole London trip. Less than a second later another text comes through, <b>This is Jimmy by the way. I got your number from Bliss.</b> A beat, then, <b>You can ignore this if you want.</b></em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The year following iwbft as told through the lens of Jimmy and Angel's friendship.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Allister "Lister" Bird/Jimmy Kaga-Ricci, Jimmy Kaga-Ricci &amp; Fereshteh "Angel" Rahimi, Minor Bliss Lai/Juliet Schwartz</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>67</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>on my touch-tone, touch-tone telephone</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>SO i started this in march and am just finishing it now because it would. not. stop. i did not mean for it to be their whole year or for it to be this long but oh well. i like it and it fulfills my specific craving for this type of iwbft content. also happy almost birthday to lister!!</p>
<p>title is from touch-tone telephone by lemon demon. the song doesn't really have anything to do with the fic it's just a vibe.</p>
<p>i don't think there's any content warnings for this one except for canon typical references to alcoholism and mental health, but it's all about recovery and growing as people and i'll shut up now because i'll talk about them for hours.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>Angel Rahimi</b>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p><b>I hope this isn’t weird.</b> The text shows up on my phone about two weeks after I got home from the whole London trip. Less than a second later another text comes through, <b>This is Jimmy by the way. I got your number from Bliss. </b> A beat, then, <b>You can ignore this if you want.</b></p>
<p> </p>
<p>I bolt upright on the couch, mum shooting me a warning look at the sudden movement. Jimmy was texting me? Why? Had I accidentally stolen something else? Oh God, I probably had.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>But I type out, <b>not weird at all! how are you doing? :D</b></p>
<p> </p>
<p>The reply is immediate, like he was waiting at the phone. <b>Okay, I guess. </b>The little dots pop up to show that he’s typing, then disappear again, then come back. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Fereshteh,” mum sounds a bit strained, “what are you doing?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Texting a friend,” I say.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“It’s family movie night.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Okay?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Please put your phone away.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>I sigh, but do it. Mum and I had been on better terms lately, and I wouldn’t jeopardize that. Even for Jimmy Kaga-Ricci.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>For the rest of the movie I can feel my phone buzzing next to my leg, and it takes nearly all of my strength not to check it. When the movie ends I fly off of the couch, my mum’s sigh and dad’s chuckle only hastening my footsteps. I’m whipping my phone out before I even make it to my room. There’s a bunch of Twitter notifications, a few texts from the groupchat with Bliss and Juliet, and two texts from Jimmy.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>I open Jimmy’s first.</p>
<p> </p>
<p><b>I just wanted to talk to someone out of the band? Everything’s a bit crazy here.</b> Twenty minutes later, he’d added, <b>Again, if you can’t that’s totally fine. I don’t want to pressure you haha.</b></p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>sorry, family stuff! i’ll totally talk to you, if you still want to</b>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>A few minutes later when I’m replying to Bliss and Juliet, he responds. <b>Could I call you?</b></p>
<p> </p>
<p>And then my screen is lighting up, a FaceTime call coming through. My heart is beating fast, and I tap the button for the back camera so it's facing away from me, reaching to grab for a scarf with my other hand.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>I accept the call.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’m on a call, Rowan!” I hear him yelling, the screen showing me what looks like the walls of a hallway. What I only assume is his door snicks shut, and then his face is filling up the screen.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Just give me a minute to put my scarf on," I say, and he smiles at the camera.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Take your time."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>I rush a little bit, trying to get my hair up and everything in place so that I can switch the camera around. He hums a little while he waits, and I feel bad because I could have been talking to him while doing this, but it seems like he needs a face-to-face conversation.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>When I'm done, I flip the camera again and smile at him, "What's up?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Sorry about that, uh, Rowan wasn’t letting me leave," he says, motioning to where I imagine his hallway is.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>I laugh, and it’s just forced enough that I cringe a little, “I know how that feels, my mum is the exact same way."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>But he’s smiling, a little bit, so I must have said something right. “How’re you doing?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Pretty good!” I glance up at the corner of the screen that has me in it, and blanche slightly at The Ark poster that’s directly behind my head, Jimmy’s photographic face staring directly into my screen. “Er, sorry. About the poster.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“It’s fine,” he looks a little uncomfortable. But I think Jimmy probably always looks uncomfortable.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“So what’s going on at your end?” I ask, because I’m great at keeping conversations going.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He sighs, a long one that pushes some of his longer hairs with its force. “You really want to hear it?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yeah! Lay it on me.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Well, we still haven’t signed our new contract yet. And Lister’s in rehab. And Rowan won’t stop eating ice cream even though, and I quote, he’s ‘perfectly fine with the break up.’” Jimmy’s voice changes, deepening slightly, rounding the syllables more, when he does his Rowan impression.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>I crack up. “Sorry, sorry, your Rowan is really good.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Thanks,” he smiles, a bit awkwardly, but happy. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“That sounds like a lot, though. Are you upset about the contract thing?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He looks pained for a second before sighing again, “No? I don’t think so? We all need a break. Really, really badly. But I want to do it eventually. Just, maybe in a few months.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I was going to take a gap year this year,” I offer. “So, I guess, I know how that feels.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“‘Was?’” He asks.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Well…” I trail off. Don’t make this weird, Fereshteh. “I didn’t really know what I wanted to do with my life. But, uh, after meeting you I think I’d like to try my shot at being a band manager? And I’m actually excited for it, so gap year might not happen. There’s still a few places I can apply.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Wow, uh, congratulations.” He pauses, “For what it’s worth, I think you’d make a great manager.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>And I know he’s just a boy, a boy lost enough and lonely enough to turn to a superfan for a friend. But he’s also Jimmy Kaga-Ricci, my former son, and one of The Boys, and his words make me preen a little bit. “Thanks!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“The contract was going to help us break America,” he says, out of nowhere. “And it’s not that I don’t want everyone to hear our music, but…”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“It’s okay, Jimmy,” I say, because it is. And it will be. He looks like he needs a hug. “I’m giving you a hug through the screen right now.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Thanks,” his laugh is watery but there. I beam.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Hey is that a <em> Brooklyn-Nine-Nine </em> poster?” I ask, the poster in question being the only thing that looks personal in his room.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Oh, yeah. Do you watch it?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What kind of question is that? Of course I watch it!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>We end up talking about <em> Brooklyn-Nine-Nine </em> for the better part of an hour, but the conversation doesn’t stop after that and we talk until nearly one in the morning. It’s surprisingly easy to talk to him, even after everything we’ve been through together and how far apart we still remain. He seems to get me, get my sense of humor, and he’s perfectly happy to listen to me prattle on about whatever’s currently catching my focus. And I find myself able to sense when he needs to talk, too, which I have a hard time with, usually.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>I end up hanging up only after I’m fighting to keep my eyes open and Jimmy is nodding off on the screen. It’s nice, honestly, and I find myself wondering if I’m friends with Jimmy Kaga-Ricci now.</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <b>Jimmy Kaga-Ricci</b>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Rowan doesn’t like that I’m talking to Angel. I knew he wouldn’t, which is why I’d been avoiding telling him about it, but he saw a text from her pop up on my phone while I was playing Smash Bros. with Lister and now the conversation is unavoidable.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“We can’t trust her,” he’s saying, although it’s more like a controlled scream. The vein bulging in his forehead tells me that he’s really mad about this.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He’s been saying the same thing for the past fifteen minutes, and I’m about sick of it. “This isn’t about us, Rowan. It’s about <em> me, </em> and I finally have a friend besides you!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Ouch,” Lister mutters next to me, because Rowan hadn’t let us leave the living room for this.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>I immediately feel bad, but Rowan doesn’t let me apologize to Lister before speaking up again. “It <em> is </em> about us if she leaks stuff to the press!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Not everyone is like that, Rowan!” I resist the urge to start ripping hair out my head, “This isn’t going to be another jowan or Bliss situation.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“How can you know that when you don’t know the first thing about her?!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“We’ve both <em> met her, </em> Rowan! She <em> helped me!” </em></p>
<p> </p>
<p>Lister chuckles uncomfortably, “Calm down, guys, or you’re going to drive me to drink.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Both Rowan and I bite out a “Not funny,” at him before turning back to glower at each other.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Lister’s been home from rehab for about a month now, not nearly long enough for those jokes to be considered anywhere within the realm of funny yet. My mind starts to go down the Lister Track, a path that it seems to be diverting down more and more often lately. I have to work really hard not to go too deep, though, Rowan is still doing that thing with his eyebrows that means he’s <em> really </em> mad.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>I force myself to take a breath. “Angel is my friend, I trust her. We all trust Bliss, don’t we?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Bliss isn’t a superfan.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>I really don’t think Angel is either, anymore, but I bite my tongue. “Listen, I’m not policing your relationships. I need you to not police mine.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The vein in Rowan’s head bulges again but he grits out a begrudging, “Fine.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>I go in my room after that, because I don’t want to kick Rowan out of the living room but I do want to give him some time to cool off, and a couple of minutes later Lister shuffles in. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Hey.” He flops down onto my bed next to me, not quite touching but close enough that I can feel his warmth.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Do you want to watch <em> Brooklyn Nine-Nine?” </em> I ask, because there’s nothing else to say.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Sure. Yippie Kayak?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Definitely.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>We watch the episode in silence, as the opening of our second episode is playing I say, “Are <em> you </em> okay that I’m friends with Angel?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Lister turns to me and I feel my heart do an unfortunate squeeze in my chest, “Honestly, I don’t think it’s any of my business who you’re friends with. But, well, I was pretty out of it but she seemed nice. And Bliss likes her, so…” He trails off, still squinting over at me in the harsh tv light. “Why do you ask?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I just… I don’t want to force someone new into your life.” It sounds stupid out loud and I start to spiral just a little bit.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>It also doesn’t help when he doesn’t respond right away. And, when he does, it makes my head spin for an entirely different reason. Lister slides his hand into mine, scooching himself across the bed so that he can rest his head on my chest, “If I felt uncomfortable I’d tell you. I think it’s good for you guys to have someone outside of the group to talk to. Someone normal.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The sadness in his voice as he finishes makes my stomach turn. I fumble for something to say, “Angel and Bliss, um, have a friend named Juliet. You could, I mean, I could hook you up with her?” I blanch. “Not hook you up like hook-you-up, hook you up like—”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>I can feel his shoulders shake and a little laugh comes out of his mouth, “It’s okay, Jimmy, I know what you meant.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Good.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I might take you up on that offer.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Okay.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>And then it’s quiet again and Lister’s head is still resting on my chest and Lister’s hand is still entwined with mine and I feel dizzy despite the fact that I’m lying down.</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <b>Angel Rahimi</b>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Dude, I’m at literal university,” I say into my phone as I’m unpacking my second to last box.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>I’d managed to convince my mom and dad to leave after the first three. There had been tears all around and a bit of trepidation from my mom since she hadn’t met my roommate yet, but now I’m alone in my room and I’m <em> excited. </em> So, naturally, I call Jimmy. I also may or may not have been blasting <em> Joan of Arc </em> from my computer.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You’re at literal university,” he echoes, and I glance at the screen to see him doing his little, one-sided smile. “Show me your room.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>I pick my phone up and give him a tour, showing off my desk and tiny, university-issued bed, and the pictures of Bliss and Juliet I’d tacked to the walls. My Ark poster is also up, staring at us, and I only feel a little bit weird about it before forgetting the fact that I’m talking to one of the people on it. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“My roommate isn’t here yet so her half is still empty.” I finish the narration I’d been giving to accompany the decor and look expectantly at him.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“It looks great,” he says, and it sounds like he means it.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>I blabber on for a few minutes about this and that, the things I’m doing for freshers week, and the classes I’m taking, him nodding along and smiling. Eventually, I pause to take a breath and he opens his mouth like he wants to say something, and then shuts it again.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What is it?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Er…”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Come on,” I say, dragging out the ‘on.’ “You can tell me.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>I can see the gears in his head turning before he blurts out, “I have a crush on Lister,” and then immediately looks like he regrets it. “That sounds so… baby-ish.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“No, it doesn’t!” I say before I’ve even processed what he’s said. “Wait. You have a crush on Lister?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He <em> eeps </em> in response.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>I squint at his picture on the phone and then over at my poster, at the two of them on it, “Yeah, I can see that.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“See what?” He squawks.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You and Lister.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>And there’s something hopeful in his eyes, something that makes my heart feel warm, “You think so?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yeah. Yeah I really do.”</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <b>Jimmy Kaga-Ricci</b>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>I’m pretty sure this is a mistake. No, I’m definitely sure this is a mistake. In my defense it’s two a.m. and both of us are sleep deprived. I wonder what I’m going to tell Angel in the morning.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The mistake is that Lister and I are almost definitely going to hook up and I can’t make myself stop kissing him. I’ve pushed him up against the wall of our kitchen, right next to the fridge, and his mouth against mine feels just as good as I’d thought it would. His hair is longer than when we’d kissed before, and I let my fingers tangle in it.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Be careful, you’re starting to get a mullet,” I murmur into his lips and he just pulls me closer in response. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>And then I’m pushing him into my bedroom and onto my bed. And I’m climbing on top of him and kissing him into my sheets. And his shirt is coming off and mine is too. And. And. And. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>For once in my life, I manage to turn my brain off.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>———— </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“No, Rowan wasn’t home,” it’s 12:47 the next day and Angel is facetiming me from a pub near her university where she’s meeting up with some friends. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>She shoves some of her salad into her mouth, eyes wide, “You’re sure?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p><em> “Yes, </em> I’m sure.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“And how was it, the sex I mean?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>I choke.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Does that mean it was good?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I don’t feel like— I mean— I…. fine, yeah, it was.” A lot better than all two of my other past sexual experiences.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Well, then it was worth it, at least.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>I wince. It had been. That didn’t change the ache in my chest that started every time I thought about what Lister looked like asleep and naked in my bed, every time I thought about how I left to get a drink before he woke up and how we hadn’t discussed what had happened since.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Angel’s eyes dart away from her phone and I see them widen as she hurriedly takes another bite of salad, “Oh shit, Marisa, hi. Sorry, Jimmy, I gotta go.” And then she’s hanging up.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>I sigh and hear the door open. A few minutes later, Rowan enters my room with an offer to play Smash Bros. with him and Lister. A distraction that I am glad for until about a minute in when Rowan, jokingly, says, “Well, I hope you two didn’t get into too much trouble while I was gone.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Both Lister and I choke at the same time and refuse to look at each other for the rest of the game.</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <b>Angel Rahimi</b>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>I am having a certified crisis.</p>
<p> </p>
<p><b>i am having a certified crisis,</b> I text Jimmy covertly from under the desk. I’m in a math lecture and I really should be paying attention because I’m absolute shit at math but I <em> am </em> having a crisis.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>When he doesn’t respond fast enough for me, I text Bliss and Juliet too, just to cover my bases. And then I go back to sitting there, my legs jiggling frantically under the desk, contemplating my crisis. Because, well, I just realized that people my age are regularly having sex, and are dating other people, a realization I came to after hearing about Jimmy’s whole Lister problem and being forced out of my room last night so my roommate could bone her boyfriend. And, the thing was, I had never done any of those things. No, that wasn’t exactly it. I’d never <em> wanted </em> to do those things. Ever.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>I’ve never had a crush, I’ve never found someone attractive beyond the point of aesthetics. And apparently that’s not normal. Or, I guess, it’s not universal.</p>
<p> </p>
<p><b>what’s up?</b> Bliss is the first one to respond, bless her. But I just stare at the text. I’m not sure what to say, I don’t know how to put these feelings into words.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>I decide to make the situation applicable to her. <b>you liked rowan didn’t you? like romantically?</b></p>
<p> </p>
<p>Her answer pops up in the span of a breath, <b>yeah, i did. where are you going with this?</b></p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>did you have sex with him? like did you want to have sex with him?</b>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>i mean yeah.</b>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>okay.</b>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>And I think I say it outloud too because the guy next to me gives me a weird look.</p>
<p> </p>
<p><b>Angel, are you alright?</b> Juliet is the one to ask this time.</p>
<p> </p>
<p><b>yeah, i am. i just,</b> and I don’t know where to go after that so I leave the text unsent and try to go back to maths, powering my phone off. And I know that’s a shitty thing to do to them but… I don’t have any words.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>That evening, when I remember to power my phone on again, I have three missed calls from both of my parents, about ten from Bliss and Juliet, and one from Jimmy. I call Bliss and Juliet first.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Hi, guys.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Angel! Are you okay?” Even through the tiny phone speaker, Juliet’s voice immediately calms me down.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yeah, I’m fine I’m sorry I didn’t respond.” And just like that, I’m at a loss again. I can’t explain this. It doesn’t even make sense to me.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What’s going on? You don’t have to tell us, we— I mean, I— am just worried.” Bliss’s voice has nearly the exact same effect on me, removing the tension from my shoulders, lifting the burden from them.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>I take a breath. “I think I might be… well, I don’t know yet. I’m just. I’m thinking about a lot of things and I don’t know exactly what to call it yet but… yeah.” Because, yes, I am a child of the internet in a mostly gay fandom. I know what this feeling is called. I have friends who are aroace. I just never thought it would apply to me and I feel like a day and a night aren’t quite long enough to settle on a label yet.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Despite this, I explain to them everything, or, rather, the lack of everything, and my confusion. I leave out the details of Jimmy’s little tryst because, while I love Bliss, she still talks to all of the boys just a little too much for me to comfortably tell her without feeling like I broke some sort of bro-code. I tell them everything, and I’m glad I’m alone in my room because I cry just a little bit too.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>They listen and respond and it feels like they’re both there. I can feel Bliss knocking her knee against mine, I can smell Juliet’s shampoo from where she would be resting her head on my shoulder. And I realize that I miss them, I need to be near them. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>And then the conversation changes to how we all have a break coming up and how I’m only forty minutes out of London and how Juliet’s gran has been asking after me.  The next day, after a couple of long phone calls to my parents, I’m going to London in two weeks.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>I immediately call Jimmy. We’d talked, I’d explained my crisis, and he’d been just as understanding, just as understanding, as Juliet and Bliss were.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Dude, are you busy in two weeks?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“No, why?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>I can hear someone walking towards him and then Lister’s head is hanging upside down in the camera, smiling at me. “Hi, Angel!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Hi!” I barely keep a leash on the have-you-talked-yet questions when I return my attention to Jimmy, “I’m going to be in London! I’m visiting Bliss and Juliet.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Jimmy is immediately smiling, the biggest smile I’ve ever seen on him, and Lister is beaming too. “Really?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yes, really! I was wondering if we could meet up.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>It doesn’t take long for my original four days in London to turn into five, and then six. Apparently I’m a precious commodity because Jimmy was practically jockeying with Juliet and Bliss for Angel-time. I would be lying if I said that it didn’t make my ego just a little bit bigger. My parents begrudgingly agree to the two days I would end up spending with them over the entire break, and I feel bad except for the fact that I visit them most weekends.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Every night for the next two weeks I fall asleep smiling.</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <b>Jimmy Kaga-Ricci</b>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Bliss and Juliet get Angel for her whole first day in London because I end up having a meeting with Cecily. Well, not just me, the whole band. It’s been nearly a year since the start of our hiatus and all of us are starting to be ready for the new contract now. We aren’t quite there yet, but soon. I’m proud of us, honestly, proud of how we’ve grown over these last couple of months. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>This does mean that Angel forces me to wake up early the next morning so we can meet each other at a coffee shop for breakfast (she doesn’t actually force me, I’m the one who suggests it).</p>
<p> </p>
<p>She’s already there when I arrive and as soon as she turns around I immediately have to bite back a laugh. Angel holds up a finger and says, “Okay, one of us is going to have to change.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>So maybe we are wearing the same exact outfit, or at least close enough to it that people are already starting to give us weird looks. She looks good in the black Thrasher t-shirt, layered on top of a long-sleeve, striped white and black shirt, with a black hijab, skinny jeans, and chunky combat boots. But I also look good in a black Thrasher hoodie and black skinny jeans and my own chunky combat boots. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>And then she’s getting up from the table she’d been sitting at and hugging me, and it feels so much better than the last hug we’d shared at my grandfather’s house because now I actually know her and neither of us are crying.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’ve missed you!” She’s saying, and her hands are flapping in the air around her, and she’s talking a mile a minute. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>That morning, drinking slightly watery, overpriced coffee with her, sitting so close to each other that one whole side of our bodies are touching, that morning is one of the best in my life.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>————</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“And you still haven’t talked about it?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>I bury my head in the couch pillow, Juliet is out with Bliss picking up dinner— we’d decided on takeout— and Angel has taken that time to grill me about the Lister situation. This is the first time I’ve ever been in Juliet’s house, the second time I’ve ever spoken to her, and it was a little weird at first but I got over it quickly, she’s just as nice as Angel. I’ve spent most of the day here, mostly because Rowan is still not a fan of the whole Angel-arrangement but also because I didn’t want to take her away from Bliss and Juliet for very long.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“No, we still haven’t talked about it,” I say, although I kind of want the couch to absorb me.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>I have informed Angel of every single hook up I have had with Lister, every single three of them, and she’s still staring at me like I’m crazy, her eyes so wide I can see little specks of gold in them.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Boys,” she scoffs, reaching out and poking me in the forehead.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>That’s something I hadn’t expected but quickly learned to love about Angel, how touchy she is. She’s constantly shoving my shoulder, poking me, and, on one memorable occasion, trying to pick me up to chuck me across the room.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Ah, the Cain instinct,” Bliss had said at that one, watching from where she and Juliet were collapsed on top of each other.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>I’ve been meaning to ask them, or ask Angel, what exactly the relationship between those two was. But I guess with how this conversation is going, I’m not one to talk.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Dude. I gotta say, I’m a little disappointed with you.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Hey!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“It’s just a little sad? You’re <em> painfully </em> in love with him—”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“No I’m not!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“—and you’re covering it up by getting freaky?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>I pout. “I am not.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>She’s smirking now, “As your self-appointed best friend I think you are.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>And that makes me smile too. Rowan is still my best friend, obviously, but somehow, over the course of a few months, Angel has wormed her way into that spot too. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>I open my mouth to say something, to thank her maybe, but the front door swings open and I hear a herd of people approaching. “Pizza— and other boys— have arrived!” Bliss calls out.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Her, Juliet, and Rowan and Lister all enter the living room, Rowan looking more than slightly uncomfortable. Angel bounds up and takes a step towards them but Lister is already scooping her into a hug and doing a little twirl with her in his arms, I guess I told him about her more than I’d thought.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I didn’t know you guys were coming!” She exclaims as Lister puts her down, offering a very friendly smile to Rowan who attempts to return it.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Bliss stopped by and told us there was free pizza.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Puh-lease,” Bliss says as she’s cracking open the pizza box, I feel my stomach rumble, “you guys are an internationally famous boy band, you can afford pizza. You just wanted to spend time with us ladies.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Lister smirks at her, although he crosses the room to where I’m sitting, throwing an arm around my shoulders. I expect him to say something witty to her, something that would make me gag and Rowan roll his eyes. But he doesn’t, instead he just looks at me, for a long heartstopping second, before he’s turning back to the conversation at hand. When I can finally rip my eyes from him I catch Angel watching me. She wiggles her eyebrows. I stick my tongue out at her. She just winks. I shove some pizza in my mouth to hide my blush.</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <b>Angel Rahimi</b>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>I can tell that Rowan still isn’t a fan of me. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Jimmy had invited me to their apartment after they’d stayed the night at Juliet’s. We’d ended up talking in her living room until 3 a.m. and her gran had already told us where the spare room was, so they’d stayed. Rowan had been comfortable enough to trash talk me during Mario Kart but apparently that comfort doesn’t extend to letting me in his house.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>It also probably doesn’t help that Lister (and, to a certain extent, Jimmy) are trying to entice him to “jam” in front of me. I can tell by the way he’s looking at me that Rowan is trying to figure out if I’m filming this or… getting off on it or something.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’m just not feeling it,” he says, for the eighth time, as Lister tugs pleadingly on his arm.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Honestly, I don’t know how he’s withstood the Lister Bird puppy dog eyes for this long, I would’ve cracked after the first five seconds. “Just really quick, I want Angel to think we’re cool.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I already think you guys are cool,” I say, laughing, but apparently it’s the wrong thing to say because Rowan’s face twitches downwards even more.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I said no, Lister, drop it.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>I glance at Jimmy as Rowan stalks away, grabbing his coat and leaving the apartment without saying anything else. Jimmy’s face looks a bit pained, until Lister is turning his puppy dog eyes to him. He throws himself across Jimmy, leaning over the back of the couch where Jimmy is sitting in order to do so. The discomfort quickly leaves Jimmy’s eyes, replaced by a softer look as he peers up at Lister through his fringe.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You wanna jam, Angel?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You mean like… play with you guys?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yeah!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>I laugh, a bit awkwardly, “I, like, only know how to play the recorder from primary school.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Lister’s already beaming at that, “That’s <em> perfect. </em>Wait I think I have one.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Seriously?” Jimmy asks as Lister quickly disappears into his room.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>I just shrug, and there’s a silence that would be awkward if it weren’t me and Jimmy and then Lister is reappearing, a white, plastic recorder in hand.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Why do you have that?” Jimmy asks, suspiciously.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I wanted to learn how to play winds! Google said that the recorder was the best place to start.” Jimmy looks like he has more questions but Lister is excitedly handing me the recorder and looking at me expectantly. Like I’d said before, it’s hard to say no to Lister Bird puppy eyes.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>I play a wicked screechy rendition of hot cross buns, my fingers fumbling as I try to remember which holes to cover. When I’m done, Lister is whooping and Jimmy is clapping, nodding like I’ve just achieved high art. I can’t stop grinning.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>We do end up “jamming.” Lister is on the drums, of course, but he also has a set of bongos and a vibraslap that he shows me how to use (it’s the easiest thing ever, why didn’t I do percussion in school. When I’d said this to Lister, however, he’d just laughed and asked me if I wanted to try the drumset. I did not). Jimmy switches between guitar, keys, and a drum machine/synth thing, and I stick to my recorder plus a little bit of whatever the two of them show me on other instruments. It’s probably the most fun I’ve had in a while.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>About an hour and a half into it, Rowan shows up, looking a little bit sheepish, and carrying a bag of pastries for lunch. After, he joins us and it turns out that he can play the kazoo <em> really </em> well, like, crazy well. And we end up doing a little duet thing between my recorder and his kazoo. I have a hard time playing, mostly because I’m smiling so much but also because I can’t really remember any fingerings. Rowan is smiling too, by the end, and afterward he flops down on the couch with me and shares a thing of sour patch kids. Even if this is going to be another repeat of Mario Kart and he would be just as frigid tomorrow as he was earlier, I count it as a win.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>I don’t blame Rowan for it, though. I get it, and hopefully I’ll have more than just this week to totally win him over to the Angel Side.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>I go back to Juliet’s that night, even though I can tell Jimmy doesn’t want me to leave. She paints my fingers with this special nail polish she’d gotten for me and I come out to her as aroace. That term feels comfortable right now, and it might change, but it also might not, and I tell Juliet <em> everything. </em> I want to make sure she’s apprised of some of the most important Angel Info that’s happened this year. It goes well, even though I cry a little, which makes her cry, and we hug and it messes up my nail polish which she has to redo. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>We stay up too late talking, just the two of us. I’m hit with a sudden wave of longing, I’m already halfway through my trip, which means there’s only two more nights with her. I want this every night, every day, really. To spend time with Jimmy and Bliss and Lister and Rowan if he’d like to and fall asleep laughing with Juliet. It isn’t a crush, I still don’t like her romantically, but when I look over at her passed out on a pillow, a sliver of light coming through the window of the guest room… I can picture falling asleep like this for the rest of my life.</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <b>Jimmy Kaga-Ricci</b>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Angel is leaving today, taking the 3 o’clock train home to spend the night with her family before heading back to university. I go with her to the train station, wearing my usual disguise of a plain hoodie and sunglasses.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I feel like we’re superheroes or something,” she says. “Should I have put a mask on?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>I laugh but I’m also remembering the last time that I’d met her at a train station and how she’s leaving in eight minutes, if the train is on time. It’s odd but I feel like I might cry. I don’t cry a lot except when I’m having bad panics or when Grandad looks at me <em> that </em> way, and I honestly haven’t even known Angel for very long, but I’m going to miss her more than I can put into words.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>We stop just outside of the ticket check and she turns to me, pulling on the straps of her bag in that sort-of-nervous way I’d just barely started noticing. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Well,” I say, because I’m stupid and emotionally constipated and trying <em> really </em> hard not to cry under my stupidly large sunglasses.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>She doesn’t say anything, instead she steps forward and wraps me up in a hug. I let myself breathe into her shoulder, taking in the smell of her and the comfort of her arms around me. It’s just as comforting, maybe even more so, than when my sister hugs me.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’m going to miss you.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’ll miss you too.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I promise to be as annoying as possible,” she says, pulling back and taking a step away. It’s probably for the best because I might just not let her go if she lingers any longer.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I don’t think you’re annoying.” It’s the truth.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The call for her train echoes through the station and she startles, “Oh, I’ve definitely got to go. My mum would kill me if I’m late.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yeah, yeah, of course.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Bye!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Bye.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>And then she’s gone and I’m left to walk out of the station and get a taxi back to my apartment alone. It’s bittersweet, I’m sad because she has to go but also excited, finally excited again, for the future. A future when I’ll get to spend time with all of my favorite people and play in (cue Bliss voice) an internationally famous band and be happy.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>About two minutes into the taxi trip my phone lights up with a message from Angel: <b>i hope this isn’t weird. i love you. see you again soon!!</b></p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>Not weird at all. I love you too.</b>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>petition for angel on the recorder to join the rowan and frances band of doom. </p>
<p>the bit where jimmy and angel meet up and are wearing the exact same clothes is inspired by artwork by <a href="https://kindaorangey.tumblr.com/">@kindaorangey</a> on tumblr. i love that idea and had to include it.</p>
<p>i'm on tumblr at <a href="https://labelleofbelfastcity.tumblr.com/">labelleofbelfastcity</a> if you want to come shout about the osemanverse with me. as always, don't be shy to leave a comment and i hope you have a great day/night!!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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